[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1163602583076753480/1163622380065783829/Outskirtz_1.png]

The public Mag-Lev takes me as far as the MetiCity docks, where I go through the standard security scan. Wouldn’t want us taking anything too fancy back home. The 24-hour travel pass Migo gave me has restricted access anyway, so it’s pretty limited as to where I can go and what I can get. It comes with enough social credit for things like hotels and food, but because of the time penalties, I don’t ever risk using the full day. Break that rule once, and I may never see the city again.

Once I'm through the gates at the docks, the transport line ends a few miles ashore in a massive parking lot built for visitors. The old Jeep I drove in stands out so much that I spot it immediately. When I first dug the thing out, I had to gut it, update the engine to run off our biodiesel blend, and firm up the suspension for the rugged terrain. I modified the AC too, but I rarely use that anymore. It’s a waste, considering there are no doors or windows. It’s not the prettiest, but it handles great in the sand and has no trouble scaling dunes. I’ve had dreams about driving it through MetiCity, just to enjoy the shocked faces gasping at the sight of technology from the old world still running. Even if I was approved to drive, I doubt they would let me use something so archaic on their autoways.

I start the Jeep up and the radio blares out over the old engine. The radio signals from the city are blocked, so it must be someone transmitting from the Outskirtz. Lethal Weather’s old stuff; I like their taste. I drive to the edge of the parking lot and dock it in one of the free transport carts. After locking in, the warning buzzer sounds and I'm propelled through the airtight Mag-Lev tube leading away from the city at five hundred miles an hour. The transport cart runs atop an extensive bridge that rises high above the open sea. After about an hour and a half, I begin to see an end to the ocean and our encampment comes into view in the distance.

Leaving the transport cart at the end of the bridge, I hit sand and head off. Most of the camp is dug in below ground, but because we haven’t had to move recently, it’s grown a bit since I was young. What was once just a small roaming settlement has become a city home to thousands of settlers, deadcreds, criminals, ex-rebels like Frank, and sandscavengers like me. Cities like mine aren’t unique, so much so that we don’t even have our own name. Because wherever there is a MetiCity, there is always an Outskirtz.

The shop just feels like home to me. I can't explain why. Ever since I can remember, I just wanted to fix all the broken little things left from the old cities. Give them a home. A better home than the orphanage my parents dumped me in. A better home than the one my fosters gave me. We all just want to feel useful at the end of the day. It's been years since something came into the shop that I couldn’t fix. In that, I find solace.

I’m almost there when I notice some punks beating the shit out of a poor guy right in the open road. As I pull up, I realize it’s actually a Droid. I could really use a fucking Droid. Even if it is an older generation, it could help Frank run the shop. By the look of it, it’s taken some heavy damage, but it’s nothing I can’t repair.

“Where you think you’re going?” One of the punks says, grabbing the Droid by its legs and pulling it back. It tries its best to crawl away.

“Hey!” I call out. I’m outnumbered and I don’t want to start a fight here, but I can’t watch this senseless violence and not say anything.

They turn to me like blood-thirsty wolves protecting their prey.

“You got a problem, kid?” One asks angrily. He sets his foot on the Droid’s head and crosses his arms.

“No problem. I just so happen to need a Droid, and it doesn’t look like you guys are going to use that one.”

“You need an eye mod kid? We’re using it now!” He says, stomping on the Droid. The Droid is mostly unbothered, but I can’t help but see a look of hope in his faceless expression.

“Maybe you’d be willing to part with it for some fresh MetiCity social credit? There’s still plenty of time on em’.” I’m not sure that’ll work. They aren’t sandscavengers, UG, or anyone who might travel to MetiCity. They’re the bottom of the barrel. Misery pulling company down with it. And if they never leave the Outskirtz, MetiCity social credit goes from plat to rat crap. Unfortunately, it’s all I have on me, save for my wrench and credentials. And those aren’t for sale.

“Why would I go all the way up ta’ MetiCity when I’m havin’ so much fun down ‘ere? You best be ’bout your business, ’fore you become our business,” he warns.

“Come on! How about a trade?” This pisses him off even more.

“What I say, kid? Noro, shut this guy up.” He says, signaling to one of his friends.

Shit.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

A fat bag of sand, who I assume is Noro, cracks his knuckles and slowly makes his way over to me. He walks up and stands in front of me with his hands at his side, smiling.

“Sure you guys don’t want to negotiate?” I plead. There are four of them in total, including this smelly slomper. Maybe I can take them one on one. But not all at once.

Noro pulls his ham-hock arm back slightly, looking to deck me with a hook to the side of the head. I lean back and bend at the knee as his punch goes shooting past. I pull my wrench off the magnetic strip on my overalls and activate it, extending its size from a foot to nearly three. I spin it around, then swing at his elbow. It hits, throwing him off balance due to the force of his swing. Too much wind-up. Too much time. I adjust my weight onto the bent back knee and lift my front foot slightly, just enough to trip him at the ankle, sending him to the ground face first. His head hits the concrete hard and he lays there out cold with his ass up to the sky. I watch as the others' faces shift from shock to anger.

“Noro!” they yell as they run over to and make sure he isn’t dead before turning their focus back to me.

One comes at me while the other tries to wake up Noro. Another one-on-one. This one doesn’t throw any punches. Instead, he has a size advantage, so he walks straight up and goes two-hands-on-one, trying to get control of the wrench. Incorrect assessment. While he is pulling at my arm, attempting to get to the wrench, I crouch and pull back to feign resistance. Once he gives it a good pull, I push off my feet, driving the top of my head into his chin. This throws him back and he releases his grip on my arm. I’m still in the air when he does, so I’m able to spin around before hitting the ground, driving my heel right into his chin I had just headbutted. He drops onto the other guy, who is still on the ground trying to revive Noro. He looks up at me, trying to get free from the weight of the limp body.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that the leader has snuck up and is about to swing on me. I’m not sure I can react in time, but I try to angle off and fade back slightly. Just before his punch lands, it stops. The Droid grabs his fist in mid-air. They aren’t supposed to do that unless they’re protecting an owner. I’m as shocked as he is.

“What the fuck? Is he decoded? Let go! Get off me!” He yells at the Droid. The Droid loosens its grip enough so that he can free his hand. As soon as he does, he winds up for another punch, this time aiming at the Droid. Before he can throw the punch, I kick the back of his knee, causing him to kneel. I raise my wrench and stop.

“Enough?” I ask, smiling.

“Fuck this. Let’s get outta here. This Droid bout’ fully fucked up.” He says, backing away and grabbing at the other guy’s arm. The two on the ground are just regaining consciousness as they are dragged away. Humiliating.

“Can you go into carry mode?” I ask the Droid, but I’m met with silence. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He’s in no condition, but I know these things have a setting that makes them easier to travel with. I’m able to find a rusty wheelbarrow that I have him sit in so I can get him to the shop. He seems to enjoy the ride and opens his hands out to let the breeze pass through his fingers. The skinny bipedal Droid is old in age and appearance, its wires exposed, peeking out from what little exo-layer is left on him. I’ve heard people say some of the oldest prototypes had faces, but this isn’t one of them. MetiCitians didn’t like their droids to look too human, weirded them out. So this one had to have been made after the rebellion, even if it looks like it’s been through one.

Like all Outskirt settlements, the shop is set in the ground, and there's a stairway leading down into the entrance. I help the Droid up and let him lean on me to keep him standing, although he's at least two feet taller than I am. As we walk down the stairway, he can't seem to stop staring at me. Maybe he's trying to utilize facial recognition but is having trouble?

Once we’re inside, I'm able to get a closer look and I realize this isn't a generation one. It's… older. Maybe an original prototype? The code is weird, too, it’s nothing I've seen before. It's simple and cleaner than the new code but also more primitive. It's also missing some major updates that allowed these guys to become the commercial successes they are today.

Why would this thing be in the Outskirtz and not a museum? Maybe someone brought it here to get repaired since the Company would likely replace it? I figured they would have recalled all the prototypes a long time ago. Odd.

I’m still working on getting the Droid back to full functionality when Migo calls.

"INCOMING!" Migo yells. I lost track of time.

"A’ight, meet you at the docks at 8," I say to dead air.

Before I leave, I start up some automated self-repair software I download to see why he’s unable to speak.

From the Outskirtz, you can see the city lights for miles. As more Meticities pop up across the oceans, the various Outskirtz around them fade, and populations dwindle. What were once massive cities with vastly different populations and cultures are now crumbling relics. What was once an ocean teaming with life under the surface is now just an empty foundation for the cities above it. The wreckage is most dense near the coastlines, and as we pass over, I can still make out certain landmarks like the infamous Statue of Liberty. Now resembling someone in neck-deep water, holding a torch up in the hopes that they can be saved by a passing ship.

When I arrive, I can hear Migo coming in for a landing next to me, the loud prototype rumbling as he lands and idles. I assumed he had an extra FlyBike at home, but I guess that was his second or third wreck. Honestly, I’ve lost count.

“I can’t believe you’re still riding that thing.” I don’t know why I’m surprised. He gets a kick out of people watching him, even if they are laughing.

“This thing may be damn near a prototype, but it’s still got the gas.” Migo smiles and slaps the side of the loaner.

Once I get on, and we get going, we really get going. Now I know what he means. It looks like shit, but the performance is amazing. Much smoother than I’d imagined. It only rumbles and vibrates heavily when sitting still. Like it’s dying to take off. I can tell, even with Migo’s terrible driving, that it has great handling. It automatically adjusts its own pitch and yaw, so we stay upright as we head back into MetiCity-6.

[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1163602583076753480/1163608399578153131/Outskirtz.png]